


paint by the numbers.

by appetency



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, M/M, cutesy art shit, painting on someone's back bc u r an artEEST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 02:23:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11281776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/appetency/pseuds/appetency
Summary: you, bucky, and a pan of oil paints relax together one evening.





	paint by the numbers.

**Author's Note:**

> what is this?????????? who knows. all evidence points to the conclusion that it's definitely something. it's short but i actually like it so anyway here it is ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

"Hold still," you murmur, but there isn't much conviction behind it. Bucky shifts underneath you and it seems like he's about to respond, but he relaxes again and melts back onto the newspapers splayed across your shared hardwood floor. His head drops down to hit the Economy and Financial section.

"Stocks are going up," he let you know and peers back to you over his shoulder as you laugh. It's quiet but it's there, a soft rumble that rings through his back and shakes through you before dissipating out into space; it's enough for the two of you. You don't look up at him and break the steady rhythm of your work. You let him know that you're there, listening, by using the back of your red, oily fingers to brush the nape of his neck, sweep his hair away, then dip their pads into a dollop of yellow paint and pad it along the edges of his shoulders. They hide the outline you drew in thin black marker that you had bought especially for this (you had been thinking about this for a while, and prepared ahead of time). The dark frame became lined with colorful golden feathers that stretched over Bucky's wide shoulders. Just above them, you leaned down and dotted his bare skin with soft kisses that sent shivers down his spine.

"I thought I told you not to move, James," you tease, and he scoffs.

"Hard to sit still when you're all over me like this, doll." Then, as an afterthought, he adds, "Your hands are soft."

"I moisturized." More yellow. You dip your fingers on one hand in red again and the other in yellow then rub them together, mixing into a soft, mellow shade of clementine interlaced with loose streaks of strawberry and lemon.

"All for me? That's sort of flattering." You can tell he's smiling again and you paint another kiss on to him, this time up higher just below his earlobe. He inhales and it's sharp but so quiet that if you hadn't been laying on top of him, you wouldn't have noticed that slight rise of his back. You decide that you like that reaction, and brush your lips over that spot again. Your eyes glance down back to your fingertips and touch up the lines of orange sky on his dorsal muscle.

You're so gentle with Bucky that he doesn't notice your teeth on his earlobe until you nip and pull, at which point he turns his head to the side and cracks open his eye to look at you. His profile looks as if it's carved out of marble, smooth and sharp with perfectly proportional features.

"What're you doing back there?"

"Nothing important," as you speak you can see the corner of his mouth tug further into a grin, "I'm done. Let me take a photo, and then you can see it."

You wipe your hands on the newspaper besides him and pull your phone out of your back pocket. You swear that as you angle yourself, Bucky curves his back just enough and flexes. There's light coming in through the open window above him and it falls onto his skin, illuminating the sun setting across his back. There are dark plum purples just along along the tops of his shoulders that fade into a ferocious red, and then that clementine orange. There are smears of quiet blues around his hips, and clouds are scattered throughout the paint. He's beautiful, much more beautiful than any sunset either you or this Earth could create, and your breath catches in your throat because you've truly never seen anyone quite like him before.

Your leg swings over him and you slide off of him. "Okay, you're done. You wanna see it?"

He nods and pushes himself up with his hands. He turns, catches your eye and winks. You feel your heart skip a beat or two and for a moment you can't meet his eyes. Goddamn him, the things he does to you are ridiculous and what's worse is that he knows it all too well. You pass him your phone, and as he scrolls through you notice how much smaller it looks in his hands than it does in yours. He's a very big man, large in every sense, the perfect blank canvas.

"That's beautiful, doll. You've got a real talent, you know that?" he tells you, "You can't even see..." The scars. Streaking along his torso like cirrus clouds. He won't say it and he doesn't have to because you already know what he means, and you don't say it either for his sake, so the two of you stand in soft silence for just a second. It sits between you like paper-thin glass and Bucky breaks it when he steps forward, again, and a third time that brings him just in front of you. One arm slings around your waist, dragging you to him, while the other presses to the nape of your neck and nudges you forward until your cool, soft chest is pressed against his firm and very bare one.

You're on the tips of your toes and his second hand slides up to tangle in your hair. The arm around your waist droops and wraps around you to cup your hips. He brings you forward so his lips can brush against yours, and you fall into him. Your body melts against his warm skin and as you kisses you, behind your eyelids you can see colors brighter and bolder than any sunset on this Earth.


End file.
